


Say you love me

by spicywatson



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: 4x04 fix it, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Requited Unrequited Love, elliot doesn't hate him okay, kind of??, maybe he loves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicywatson/pseuds/spicywatson
Summary: we all needed this after 4x04Contains SPOILERS for the episode!!!





	Say you love me

The first thing he wonders is if Elliot is okay. With the Dark Army footsoldier bleeding against the steering wheel, Tyrell knows the imminent threat is gone. 

But now the crushing pressure in his stomach, the gouging, nauseating pain, is taking hold of him. His fingers linger over the wound and come away slick red.

Shattered glass crunches underfoot as he staggers alongside the van. Blood drops fall between his shoes, staining the snow with little flecks of crimson. He meets Elliot’s shock-widened eyes.

“Jesus christ,” Elliot breathes, mouth agape. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

_Does he care after all?_

“No, no hospitals,” Tyrell asserts, “I’m done now.” It’s becoming harder to breathe. He takes little gasps of air, chest heaving as he does. If it’s his time to die, if that’s what fate decides for him, he’ll accept it.

Elliot’s eyes dart over him rapidly, catching on the blood blooming on his shirt.

“B- but Elliot?” He reaches for him, fingers closing around the black fabric of Elliot’s hoodie. _It’s so much softer than he’d ever imagined. How could he ever let go?_ He twists his fingers around the material, latching on tightly. “Make sure you take care of Whiterose, okay?”

There’s a sinking feeling within him, looking at Elliot. His love, his god, would cast him away like a speck of dirt on his shoe. _He never loved me. How could he never feel anything for me? Did he ever? He doesn’t want me. He’s better off without me._

He allows his other hand to fall, skimming over Elliot’s sleeve, before he grasps his hand in his own. Maybe Elliot’s fingers twitch minutely, as if to hold him too.

And he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Elliot’s lips. Those perfect lips, cold as they may be, unmoving. Elliot remains stone-still. Tyrell doesn’t care, he could cry for the joy of it, for the pain of it. He’ll indulge himself, just this once. He presses firmer now, still soft, but with urgency.

He doesn’t have long now. He should savor this.

He breaks away with the taste of bitter salt on his lips. Offers Elliot a pained, weak smile. “Bonsoir, Elliot,” he breathes, for the last time.

He releases his hold on Elliot, releasing his palm and that warm, soft fabric, keeping his gaze on him as long as possible. Each step brings him tremendous pain, although he’s not sure if it’s the bullet torn through him or that each movement carries him further and further away from Elliot.

“Tyrell.”

He feels his heart stutter, pumping the last of his blood. 

“I can’t let you die,” Elliot calls, and if Tyrell pretends, he can hear just the tiniest crack in his voice.

Between the searing, twisting pain in his gut and the squeezing in his throat, he’s surprised he even finds his voice. “I’m just gonna go for a walk,” he says with a gentle sigh.

He should know better than to hope Elliot will follow. So he turns away, leaving Elliot frozen, without another glance back.

It’s a beautiful night. The pale moon rises high among the gray clouds, illuminating the soft blue snow and the heavy white fog. Tyrell takes ragged breaths and tries to focus on his footsteps. One after the other on the glistening pavement. Snowflakes catch on his eyelashes, melting like little crystals, dropping and slipping down his cheeks. He sniffles.

His shoes sink into softness, leaving the slick, icy pavement behind.

Time dissolves. The silent woods claim him.

And still Elliot doesn’t follow.

Jagged twigs and twisting branches trail before him, peeking up from the wide expanses of snow. He staggers around them, although each unsteady step he takes threatens to steal away his footing. A bitter wind slows him, chilling his fingers to the bone, biting his nose. He folds in on himself, turning away from the stinging cold, but takes little steps forward nonetheless.

His blood is black as it soaks through his shirt, his silk tie, his coat. It’s hard to tell now how much he’s lost, but his veins run cold, the heat leaving his body quicker and quicker. He presses down on the wound, knowing it’s useless. Not long now.

Tyrell stumbles and falls, slumping to the ground. He turns and presses his cheek against the pure white snow, the softest bed he’s ever lied on. It feels so warm now, a comfortable place to rest. And that’s all he’s doing, right? Just resting for a moment, catching his breath before he continues on through the winding woods.

Elliot’s words ring painfully loud in his ears. Tears trickle down his nose and turn to ice.

All this time. All this time, and what a fool he was. Elliot never even _liked_ him. The one and only person who could ever understand him, the only person he has left to love, would wish him dead.

_I can’t let you die._

Yet Tyrell lies under the towering trees and black sky, blood staining his white bed and slowly seeping out from under him.

His eyes slip closed.

Joanna is there, smiling softly, their son held in her arms. A bright, blue light surrounds her in a brilliant, welcoming halo. His lips tug at the corners. She’s proud of him. She’ll wait for him. 

Not long now. 

Elliot is grinning back at him too, the happiest he’s ever seemed.

And then they turn away from Tyrell, slowly, as if they’re hoping he’ll follow. He reaches out as they fade into the blue glow, but he’s rooted to the spot. He calls out. He cries. They don’t spare another glance back.

The world dims. Deep blue and black bleeds in at the edges, and the bright glow is extinguished.

And Tyrell is still breathing.

_Is it not his time to die?_

He barely registers approaching footsteps, quick and frantic as they are.

There’s movement at his side and then arms slide under his, hoisting him up clumsily. A great warmth spreads through his stuttering chest.

“I can’t let you die.”

Tyrell gasps a sob. _Thank you thank you thank you_

Although his body is limp and heavy, he forcefully shoves his feet under him, burrowing them deep into the snow, and he commands himself to _stand._ His head spins and he lurches.

“Come on,” Elliot urges, lifting him again. Tyrell throws an arm across his shoulders and they walk side by side, step by shaky step. Elliot’s hands cling to him, holding him tight.

Tyrell laughs breathlessly. “Elliot,” he manages to mumble. 

“We gotta get you help.”


End file.
